


Laundry Day

by fwooshy



Series: HP Kinkuary 2021 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Buff Ginny Weasley, Crossdressing, F/F, HP Kinkuary 2021, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, They were neighbours, and fun times were had by all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwooshy/pseuds/fwooshy
Summary: Hermione was afraid of Ginny, because Ginny made her wet.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Series: HP Kinkuary 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142777
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [primaveracerezos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos/profile) for betaing this for me!! 💛💛

Hermione lived one floor down from Ginny, but she didn't see her nearly as often as everyone thought. Ginny was a famous athlete with an athlete's training schedule and an athlete's afterparties that had all kinds of colourful folk rotating through her door. Ginny wasn't interested in spending time with Ministry nine-to-fivers like Hermione Granger, which suited Hermione just fine, because Hermione was afraid of Ginny, although it wasn't because Hermione used to date Ron, and Ginny used to date Harry. No.

Hermione was afraid of Ginny, because Ginny made her wet.

Ginny on the cover of Quidditch Correspondent, arms crossed and arse strapped tight in Quidditch leathers. Ginny on the fold-out spread of Quidditch Illustrated, collared shirt unbuttoned to her navel, school tie skimming over freckled breasts. Ginny with her muscular thighs that Hermione wanted so badly clenched over her ears, as she—

Ginny in suspenders and no shirt, balanced on a broom and hanging over the iron railing of Hermione's balcony.

"Hermione!" Ginny hollered.

Hermione's book flew out of her hands.

"Hermione! Come out, will you?" Ginny yelled.

"Alright, alright," Hermione grumbled, walking out to the balcony. She'd better deal with Ginny before they got the building manager called on them.

Hermione had forgotten how beautiful Ginny was in person. Ginny vibrated with life, her every move loud and brassy as a marching band.

"Merlin," Hermione breathed, blood rushing to her head.

"What on earth are you wearing?" Ginny barked.

Hermione blushed. She tugged at the strings of Ron's old hoodie. "It's laundry day. Give me a break."

"Hang on. I recognise those snitches. Are those my  _ brother's boxers? _ "

"They're clean!" Hermione squeaked. So what if she never threw her ex's things away? It wasn't her fault that he never remembered to take them back. And they were so  _ comfy _ .

Ginny's eyes narrowed, gleaming the way they did seconds before she shot after a snitch. "Take them off," she demanded.

"No! God, Ginny. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have anything left to wear. Besides, you don't even have a shirt on."

"You like it?" Ginny batted her lashes. "I left it off for you."

Hermione opened her mouth. Then closed it, because she had no idea what to do with it. Her face burned through to the bone. She should deny it, play it cool, but it was too late to do anything without making it even more awkward—

Ginny flipped back on her broom. She somersaulted, showing off. "Want to come up?"

"I — why?" Hermione knew one-hundred-thousand English words and Ginny had her reduced down to two letters.

"Oh, you know," Ginny grinned, tossing her hair back.

Hermione wished. Fantasised.  _ Yearned _ , even. But when it came to knowing, she was shit out of luck.

Ginny sighed. "So you can borrow a shirt,  _ stupid _ ."

"Oh. Right. Thanks," Hermione nodded. She thought that made sense, though, in all honesty, she wasn't thinking about much beyond Ginny's bulging biceps.

Ginny grabbed her hand and yanked her up and onto the broom.

Hermione tried not to scream, but the ground was so very far away. Her whole body shook, shivering with fear until Ginny's legs twined with hers, steadying her.

Hermione took a deep breath. The street below stilled, focusing into view.

"Not so bad, huh?" Ginny whispered in the shell of Hermione's ear. She wrapped an arm tight around Hermione's waist, the other balanced on the broom handle between Hermione's legs. 

Ginny's firm breasts pressed against her back. Hermione shivered, felt herself start to slick. Said, "Yeah." There was a draft up here, she swore.

It was on Ginny's sofa that Hermione realised the absurdity of her situation. Ginny was five-ten and toned while genetics gifted Hermione generous proportions everywhere except her height, so there was no way Hermione could "borrow a shirt." She'd pop the buttons straight off.

"Earl or black?" Ginny asked from the kitchen. A low countertop separated the kitchen from where Hermione sat frozen on the sofa. It was the same countertop as Hermione's a level below, but nearly unrecognisable under the heavy crowd of empty takeout containers and open Quidditch magazines.

"There's no need for tea. I'm only here to borrow a shirt," Hermione said, because it was true—a reasonable thing to say—and because she loved shooting her own foot.

"Mum would kill me if I had company over and didn't offer tea," Ginny yelled from the kitchen, even though Hermione could hear her just fine. Ginny yelled all the time. She yelled on the field, over the table, even in bed, Hermione reckoned.

Hermione had the sudden, vivid fantasy of Ginny, naked under a blazer, hollering for Hermione to "take another finger, c'mon, you can do it, I know you can—"

"When have you ever cared about what your mum thought?" Hermione asked, desperately reining in her hormone monster. Naked Molly. Naked, nearly-mother-figure Molly Weasley. Unsexy as a tea cosy and a jar of jam.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Hermione.

Hermione was screwed.

The tea was burnt, the biscuits stale—days of unbuttoned trousers and stompy boots scattered across the carpet. Ginny sat atop the counter and made a face when she scalded her tongue on her tea. Then she told Hermione to take Ron's hoodie off.

Hermione did.

It tangled for a moment in her hair. But, too soon, she wore nothing but her own knockers.

"Wow," Ginny said.

"You said you'd give me a shirt," Hermione said, face aflame.

"Come here."

"I don't see—"

"Merlin, woman," Ginny moaned. "Do you even  _ know _ what you're doing, squeezing your boobs together like that? I'm literally salivating like a crup."

Hermione wasn't — hadn't — didn't mean — 

"Come  _ here _ ," Ginny said, "or else I'm going to think you don't want this, which I know is a bloody lie because you've been stammering since—" 

Hermione took two steps and shut her up with her mouth.

Somehow they made it into Ginny's laundry room. Ginny had one because she couldn't be bothered with cleaning charms. At least, that's what she'd told them at her housewarming two years back. But Hermione was starting to think it was actually for sex because the way the dryer rumbled warmly under Hermione's arse felt too good to be accidental.

Ginny moaned into Hermione's mouth. "God, you're a smoke show. I've wanted you for so long," she growled, nipping Hermione's lower lip. She tipped Hermione's head, pressing her lips along the borders of Hermione's mouth. Hermione whimpered, tugging Ginny in by her suspenders. She wanted to wrap her legs around Ginny, pull her close. Feel if she was this wet, too.

"You're really good at this," Hermione gasped, pushing Ginny back. She was going to pass out if she didn't come for air.

Ginny's hair was ablaze in the golden afternoon light, her eyes fogged with lust. She was so fucking hot, and so fucking good at this. Hermione wondered how many other girls Ginny had snogged on the dryer of her laundry room. No way it was her first time. Or maybe it was. Ginny seemed the type to be a natural at everything she tried.

Hermione reached a slow hand out to thumb over Ginny's lower lip. It was freckled, like the rest of her. Hermione wondered what it would be like, to be Ginny, to be effortlessly good at everything she did.

"Oh my god, stop  _ thinking _ , stupid," Ginny groaned, catching Hermione's wrist in her hand. She licked Hermione's thumb, before swallowing it, slobbering over it. Spit dribbled down her chin. It was so nasty, Hermione couldn't stop squirming. She worried she'd come from the dryer alone.

"Stupid?" Hermione gasped through the muddled slick of lust. "No one's called me stupid in years."

"You think you're not, just 'cos you're so articulate all the time," Ginny said, slipping her hand up a leg of Hermione's boxers and circling between her legs. "I'm going to make you come so hard you start slurring your words."

Hermione wanted to protest, wanted to say  _ you've already won, I'm a bumbling mess _ , but there was no stopping the heat building inside her. She closed her eyes and keeled, her whole body clenched in tremors as she came.

Her hands unclenched Ginny's suspenders. She leaned back, eyes watery. "Jesus," she said.

"Like that?" Ginny smirked. She stood back, sucking on her thumb, the one that had been between Hermione's folds.

"Oh my god, don't—" Hermione protested, her face hot, embarrassed when her treacherous cunt clenched tight. 

"No?" Ginny grinned. She spread Hermione's legs wide and pressed between them. Their nipples brushed. And then they brushed again, every touch an arrow of static shot straight between the legs.

Hermione lifted a tentative hand to Ginny's waistband. It was already half-unbuttoned, though Hermione didn't remember how. Ginny's hand met hers, guiding her down.

Ginny was already so slick. Hermione jerked her head up in surprise, her mouth agape.

"Look what you did to me," Ginny whispered hoarsely. She cupped Hermione's neck, pulling their lips together. Desire consumed Hermione, ate at her until she couldn't breathe. She groaned, her fingers continuing to slide over Ginny's clit. Ginny was drenched.

"Can I?" Hermione panted.

"Oh my god,  _ please _ ," Ginny moaned.

Hermione slipped a finger inside, crooking it tentatively. Ginny moaned louder, and Hermione, encouraged, started stroking.

"Is it good?" Hermione asked, too-eager.

"Mmm," Ginny said. "More, c'mon. Don't be shy. You're a fucking Gryffindor. Act like it."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione laughed. She pushed in another finger and pressed them together, stroking faster. Her thumb circled lazily around Ginny's clit. She could feel Ginny tensing, clenching at her shoulders too hard. A few more seconds, and then Ginny would come. And it would be because of Hermione.

Ginny wrenched away, tossing her head back in one smooth motion, as though breaking through the surface for air. She pulled the boxers down to Hermione’s ankles and knelt down between her thighs before Hermione could register what was happening. And then she ran her mouth up Hermione's folds, her tongue swirling around Hermione's swollen clit.

"Ginny," Hermione trembled. "Ginny, god,  _ Ginny _ —"

Ginny guided Hermione's hands to her hair. Ginny's hair was so red. Hermione hovered over it, unsure. And then Ginny pushed her tongue past Hermione's entrance, and Hermione shrieked, pulling at Ginny's hair like it was the only thing tethering her to this world. She was going to come again, and Ginny hadn't even come once. She wanted to come so badly that she'd burn books for it. _New Theory of Numerology._ _Hogwarts, A History_. Anything. Everything. She'd reduce Alexandria to dust.

"I'm going to, Ginny, I'm. I'm,  _ please _ , I'm—" she babbled, utterly useless. She was going to die, she knew it. She was going to die because words arithmancy spells magic meant nothing anymore, absolutely nothing when she had Ginny Weasley between her legs.

And then her legs clenched, her orgasm thrashing through her wild as wildfire.

Hermione gasped, still choked for air. "What are you doing?" she slurred, blinking wetly toward Ginny.

Ginny stood by the open window, a warm breeze playing through her hair. In her hands were Ron's discarded boxers. Hermione could see the wet stain down the front even behind her hazy eyes. She blushed.

Ginny grinned at her, triumphant. She tossed the boxers out the window.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for day 10 of hpkinkuary, prompt "crossdressing".
> 
> Ginny was heavy inspired by tmblr art, specifically:
> 
>   * [eleth89's](https://eleth89.tumblr.com/) [girls dressed in men's clothes](https://fw00shy.tumblr.com/post/642167270333890560/eleth89-is-there-anything-better-in-this-life)
>   * [dragontamerdame's](https://dragontamerdame.tumblr.com/) [buff ginny ginsy](https://fw00shy.tumblr.com/post/642424003637788672)
> 

> 
> Thank you for reading! 💛 You can find me on [dw](https://fwooshy.dreamwidth.org/) and [tumblr](https://fw00shy.tumblr.com/).


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